


antigone funn was born from flames.

by honey_butter



Category: Wooden Overcoats (Podcast)
Genre: Poetry, character study kinda, i really like antigone, i wasnt sure what exactly to rate it, this probably shouldnt be mature but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23548486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_butter/pseuds/honey_butter
Summary: you were born from flames and misery,you have grown into ugly grief.a short poem about antigone funn
Kudos: 6





	antigone funn was born from flames.

child of secrets and venom

locked in the dark, threatening to boil up inside.

you who has such fire in your veins,

a ceaseless beating in your chest and blood in your mouth.

teeth slick with it,

oil pooling on your hair and in your stomach.

that oil can burn

can grow cold and frozen to the touch.

you who has too much poison inside,

acid that flies from your tongue and dots your lips.

bones quaking with it and body shaking

you are nothing but blight.

you were named after a virtuous woman

yet you have never claimed to be the same.

body and soul too vicious for this world,

a heart that beats with want and need.

there is the eternal stillness of death in your veins

and flame-filled suffering in your core.

your want terrifies you,

a want for a different life, for no life, for  _ pure _ life.

you would suck it dry if you could,

lick every drop clean.

because you are so empty while the rest of the world is so full

and you ache enough to overflow.

cold kisses have been your friend

since you can remember, since always.

a lifeless body will always listen

and you are surrounded by them.

you are emptied and hollowed out by the scooping of fingers,

by memories that have grown scalding from countless studies.

ruby red droplets of blood on pale skin,

black lace tracing the weaving of a spider.

the feeling of his hand in yours,

of your skin alone and dragging.

you are a woman so you should not want like this,

you are a woman so you burn.

you were born from flames and misery,

you have grown into ugly grief.

you were named after a woman who mourned,

death is your friend, you mourn only for yourself.

fire and death and brimstone are your echo

and you are a mess, a monster of malice.

bile slips from your mouth,

everything feels so sickly sweet beneath your fingers.

you are fear, you are flame, you are

poisonous, deadly, biting, scared and scarred.

your namesake would be

proud.

**Author's Note:**

> well this isn't the best poetry ever but i want to contribute to the wooden overcoats fandom. don't be shy to comment/reach out!! i'm on tumblr at [labelleofbelfastcity](labelleofbelfastcity.tumblr.com). anyway that's it enjoy yourselves


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